


Fathoms Below

by Master Thief (lucid_lies)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boats and Ships, Bodice-Ripper, Canon-Typical Violence, Eren Yeager Has Long Hair, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Golden Age of Piracy, Historical Fantasy, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Language Barrier, Languages and Linguistics, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Masturbation, Mermaids, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Masturbation, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pirate Captain Levi, Pirates, Porn With Plot, Sailing, Sea Monsters, Seafolk, finfolk, kind of?, merman eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucid_lies/pseuds/Master%20Thief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1715, and pirates roam the Caribbean waters, plundering and looting as they see fit before vanishing without a trace. Captain Levi, Scourge of the Seven Seas, and his crew are on their way back to Havana after a successful voyage when they are almost waylaid by a sudden tropic storm. </p><p>In the resulting wreckage, a mysterious creature believed to be nothing more than a writer's flight of fancy is found. Amidst men who's loyalties lie where the gold does, Captain Levi and the most trusted members of his crew must do their best to keep the sea creature hidden, safe from the greed of man before it can be returned to the sea's embrace. </p><p>The last thing he expected was becoming attached to the odd being from another world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathoms Below

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a historian, and I'm going to make mistakes. I'm going to try and portray this as accurately as possible but I'm bound to fuck up somewhere along the way. That being said, this isn't beta-ed but if anyone would like to offer up their services, I would appreciate it very much. I started writing this fic in December of 2015, and have been hoarding it on my hard drive ever since. 
> 
> Only a select few close friends have seen it in it's entirety, and it would not be what it currently is without their help. My fiance also had a large role and I can't express how much she has pushed me to continue what I started. This piece is very special to be because it is the first time in a long time that I poured so much of myself into one of my works. I spent a lot of time researching and writing, and worrying over whether it was any good. So, with this in mind, I am hesitantly sharing it with all of you in the hopes of seeing what you good people think. Any and all constructive criticism is more than welcome. I'd never be able to expand as a writer without your input and it is all of great value to me. 
> 
> With all of that out of the way, I had intended for this to be a one shot because I seem to be able to actually complete those, but I decided to split it up into at least 3 chapters. That might change to two, or it might increase. I cannot say for sure until I get there. 18 pages have been written (which isn't a lot, I admit, but there were periods of time where I did nothing but work on this, and then there were times where I ignored it completely) but everything is planned out and I know where I would like to go. At this point, it is just a matter of getting there. 
> 
> I hope you all can find something enjoyable from this piece. 
> 
> Anchors aweigh~

_West Indies Sea, 1715_

“STEADY AS SHE GOES, BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES!”

“IT’S NO GOOD CAP’N, SHE CANNA TAKE ANOTHER HIT LIKE THAT!”

“Shit!” Levi curses under his breath, tightly gripping the wet wood as the wheel shudders beneath his hands. He’s clinging to the handles, attempting to keep himself upright as they sail headlong into the worst of the storm.

The ocean nashes and moans. Her churning waters are an angry grey as the unforgiving wind sways the galleon to and fro. The clouds overhead are fat with rain; the sky flashes and thunder rumbles. The heavens split open and douse the seamen scuttling across the deck to the bone. Levi watches through stinging eyes as they wobble, trying to keep their balance as the ocean spray beats against their frames with every wave that thrashes against the side of the ship.

“CAP’N, THE SAILS!” Erd yells from the larboard stern, hands a flurry of movement as he fights the elements, tightening and releasing ropes. “WIND’S TOO STRONG, THEY’LL GET DAMAGED!”  
  
Head snapping up in alarm, Levi looks skyward immediately. Above them, the sails are rattling in their holdings as the heavy rain soaks into the dark green canvas. If the sails get too drenched or damaged, they’ll be all but useless and then the ship’ll be becalmed in the middle of the goddamn West-Indies Sea, three weeks away from the nearest port, Havana. Their course was set for the city when this storm materialized out of nowhere. They’re low on provisions, all that remains after the eight months long voyage is pickled eggs, salted meats of a questionable origin and a couple casks of grog. It’s certainly not enough to sustain the men for more than two weeks at most, and that’s if they ration the food wisely.

They’ll be sitting ducks until a passing vessel happens upon them - if the captain is feeling kind and decides to assist them instead of plundering the leftovers. One of the problems with being a pirate is you never know what your fellow swashbucklers are capable of. They’re fickle beings who’d help you just as readily as they’d slit your throat and rob you blind. Gold talks and there's nothing a pirate loves more than money to line his pockets.   

As captain, it his his duty to ensure the safety of these men, and he’ll be damned if he lets them die in vain. They will not die millions of leagues away from home because their captain can’t handle his own damn ship during a summer storm.

“FURL ALL SAILS!” he barks out, sharply jerking the wheel to the side, avoiding a large rock jutting out of the water. “DAMN YE FILTHY BILGE RATS, CLEW UP!”

“CAP’N, WATER SPOUT STARBOARD BOW!” Gunther calls down from the crow's nest, shielding his face from the frigid rain.

Reacting instinctively, Levi puts all his weight into pulling the wheel to the left, the wood of the ship letting out an almighty groan in protest as it turns against the eddies in the water. He can see the spinning column of water through the haze of rain, heading straight for the right side of the ship. There’s no way he can outmaneuver the spout. Gunther spotted it too late and it will hit them within a matter of seconds. The only thing they can do now is cling to the ship and hope for the best.  

“BRACE!”

The crewmen slide across the deck, scrambling for cover. Levi doesn't have time to account for them all, he can only trust that they make it to relative safety as he takes shelter behind the wheel, crouching low and twining his arms between the spokes, clinging to the banister as the spinning cyclone smashes into them, the ship lurching to the side. A massive wall of salt water sweeps across the deck. The gurgling cries of fear as some of the men are swallowed whole echo out as they sink to a watery grave fathoms below. 

He does his best to ignore the growing loss of life, glaring up at the weeping sky. There will be time to mourn the dead once they've escaped this blasted storm. Now is not the time to get all tied up in sentiment. There are capable men still on this ship and they rely on his leadership to spend another day breathing. The hearty souls that died on his watch will never be forgotten, but the lot of them aren't worth sacrificing even one life. 

“KEEP STEADY NOW LADS, SHE’S ALMOST THROUGH!”

“AYE, CAP’N!”

* * *

 

The treacherous waters have calmed, now gently lapping at the bow of the ship as Levi deftly sails across glittering swells. The evening sun sits low on the horizon like a flat orange disc. There are no signs of the previous storm, the steelhead clouds and the torrents of rain have vanished without a trace. The only evidence that such a violent amalgamation of thunder, rain and waves took place is the solemn air that hangs over the ship like a noose.

Levi is exhausted, quicksilver eyes haunted. The storm has taken more out of him than just physical strength. He knows with an unwavering certainty bred from years of experience, first as part of the crew, and then as a captain himself, every time they weigh anchor, a few are bound to be sent to Davy Jones' Locker. After all, the ocean is a fickle mistress, and only the best captains can successfully sail her waters - she will never be tamed. 

As beautiful as she is savage, she can turn on her lover just as quickly as she can guide him to safety. It's this vicious, unbroken nature of her’s that made Levi fall in love with her all those years ago when he was a young, naive boy set on carving out a piece of the world for himself, and every time since then when he sets sail across the vast expanse of her domain, he falls more and more in love with her roaring waves and salty winds. However, not all men can love the sea so ardently, therefore in return, she cannot love all men.

Levi would be a fool if he didn't know that not everyone in his service is sturdy enough to withstand the ephemeral nature of her rolling waves, and not all men are suited to a rugged life spent adrift at sea. Knowing it and accepting it are two different things, however. He knows that one third of the men signed on under the black flag will not make it home, whether it be scurvy, crossing blades with another pirate, or the ocean herself that claims them. To be branded a pirate, to sail the seven seas and steal from the wealthy, to actively spit in the King's face and rise up against the Navy, a certain flirtation with death is required. None of the men aboard his ship are ignorant enough to believe they are exempt from the perils that they face, least of all Levi. That knowledge never makes it easier, never makes it acceptable. The men pledging themselves to him have their own lives, wives, children, and he feels their loss, all the moments stolen from them, like a visceral ache in his gut.

Their lives are placed in his hands, and as captain, it is his duty to honor the trust they place in him, to uphold their respect. He runs a tight ship, works them hard, and doesn't tolerate any of their bullshit. In spite of that, he would bleed for them, die for them if he must. In return, they would do the same for him. They are a hodgepodge crew from all walks of life, a patchwork family that fills the void of his own rather lackluster family life. The ones that have survived up to this point have been there with him since the very beginning, and there isn't anything he wouldn't do for them. 

Levi cannot begrudge the ocean for the one's she steals away, though sometimes he wishes he could.

Startled out of his reverie by a presence settling beside him at the helm, Levi knows without looking that it’s his Quartermaster, Erd. He keeps his gaze towards the burning horizon resolutely, quietly steering the ship. It is no secret that the other man wishes to discuss the next course of action. Ever since he marched onto Levi's ship eight years ago, nothing but a whelp scared of his own shadow, burning with determination to become the best buccaneer this side of the globe, Erd has been easy to read. 

"Permission to speak, Cap'n?"

Levi doesn't utter a sound, although he inclines his head, gesturing for Erd to speak freely.

“Cap’n, storm’s over and we’ve been sailin’ for a good while now,” the Quartermaster says, his gaze never straying from Levi’s impassive face, “The crew is gettin’ restless. It’s time to account fer the dead and survey the damages. We should drop anchor.”

Stormy, gunmetal eyes turn and regard Erd, a strange challenging light making them glint as they trace over the furrow of his brow and the slight downward turn of his lips.

“Why not address them yerself?” Levi asks nonchalantly. “Ye’ve hovered over me fer years like a jealous missus, ye even know when I’ve taken a shit and when I’ve pissed. Surely ye know how to do it after all these years.”

Erd scowls, irritation creeping into his voice when he responds, “Don’t mock me, Levi. Ye know I can’t - won’t do that.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I respect ye too much,” Erd says, hands curling into fists. He proved his loyalty to Levi long ago, almost a lifetime away. He has been under the captain’s service so long that he understands what this is truly about. He knows Levi well enough to read between the lines. “And because ye’re the captain. It'd be mutiny.”

A thoughtful expression softens the hard lines of Levi’s face as he looks back out across the blue water stretching for miles in every direction. His long, pale fingers absently stroke a worn wooden handle as they glide through the waves. It is silent between the two of them for long moments before Levi makes a soft sound, and when he speaks, his voice sounds a million leagues away.

“I may be captain, but not a very good one, aye?” says Levi. “I couldn’t even control my own fucking ship in a storm.”

“Levi, you’re a great captain,” Erd protests, suppressing the urge to place a comforting hand on his captain’s shoulder. Levi is very particular about who touches him and when. Erd figures it has to do with the germs. You’d think that a pirate who spends months at sea would be a bit more tolerant of filth. “I wouldn’t still be here after all these years if you weren’t. And you know as well as I do, that storm wasn’t normal. Came outta the blue, it did. You’re just trying to find excuses to explain away feeling sorry for yourself.”

“What the fuck did ye just say to me?” Levi’s eyes are narrow chips of ice as he glares at Erd, lips a thin, cruel line. “I must be goin’ fuckin’ deaf. Go on, I want ye to repeat yerself."

Erd remains strong and refuses to cower under the intimidating figure Levi makes, even if it looks like the captain is about to abandon his post and beat him bloody.

“I know ye heard me,” says Erd, squaring his jaw. “And ye know it’s true. Them dying wasn’t yer fault. They know what they signed up for, they were warned that they might not make it back home in one piece, or at all. Ye need to stop blaming yourself all the time.”

The captain’s gaze never wavers but the furious light fades from his eyes and the mounting tension in the air dissipates. All the fighting spirit drains from his stance and all that’s left behind is a man stretched too thin.

Chuckling bitterly, Levi reaches up and pushes at his eyelids, a wry smirk peeking out from behind his hand. “Look at ye,” he says, amused. “I don’t deal with any of yer bullshit but I expected ye to deal with mine - and ye called me out on it.”

Erd can’t help the amused twitch of his lips, an answering smirk working its way onto his face.

“Of course, Cap’n. As yer second in command, it’s my duty to keep ye in line.”

“Snarky little shit head, well done. Now fuck off, do your job. Find something useful to do while I address the rest of the crew.”

Erd mock salutes, tossing a cheeky wink Levi's way.

“Right away, Cap’n.”

Levi rolls his eyes as he watches Erd head below deck, a small smile curving his mouth upwards.

* * *

A startled cry draws Levi’s attention away from the helm and towards one of the powder monkey’s. He’s a whelp of a boy, no more than 15 summers old, and currently doing an interesting half lunge half scramble backwards, seemingly trying to get as far away from a cluster of barrels at the bow of the ship as quickly as possible.

The rest of the crew watches on in amusement, full-bellied laughs ringing out as the boy tries to pick himself up from the wet deck, only to fall back down on his arse.  

“Ye scared o’ yer own shadow, Laddie?” one of them chortles, roughly jabbing an elbow into a fellow mate’s ribs. “Can’t be much over there ‘sides a couple o' dead fish and some seaweed.”

“Poor whelp ain’t got the stomach fer it,” says another, shaking his head back and forth with a strained sense of mirth, like he can’t quite believe such a nancy boy found his way onto the ship sailed by the Captain Levi, Scourge of the Seven Seas.

“S-S-S-S-”

“S-S-Spit it out, Lad,” a swabbie mocks. “We haven’t got all day.”

“S-SEA SERPENT!” the powder monkey cries, horrified gaze remaining glued to whatever unseen horror lies behind the barricade of barrels. “IT’S A SEA SERPENT!”

One hand scoffs before muscling his way to the front of the gathered group, roughly shoving the boy out of the way. The young lad comes to his senses and shoots to his feet, scuttling away until he’s joined the rest of the crew. The hand that shoved him is one of the gunmen in charge of manning the cannons, Gwayne, affectionately known as the Mountain. He is a brutish, stocky man that boasts a thick black beard and a rough Scottish accent. He is also very well known for his love of grog, loose women, and arm wrestling.

“Ye might as well be nothing but a lily-livered lassie with the way you screech, Lad,” Gwayne says, dark eyes as black as coal, peering out of a severe face. “There’s no way ye’ve got a cock between yer legs.”

A fresh round of laughter rises from the crew and the powder monkey flushes in embarrassment, face mulish as he scowls down at the deck.

“I ain’t lily-livered, and I ain’ no lass neither,” he says. “I was just surprised is all...it’s huge. Bigger than I ever seen.”

Gwayne shoots the young boy a skeptical look, mustache twitching. “O’ course ye’d say that, Laddie.”

“I mean it, I ain’t no coward!”

“Well, let's have a good o’ look at yer ‘sea serpent’, then.”

Turning about, Gwayne approaches the barrels and peers behind them. At first all he sees is a tangled mess of fish nets, thick clumps of seaweed and puddles of salt water. However, as he takes a second, closer look he startles.

“Jaysus, Mary and Joseph!” he shouts, taking a quick step back.

The edge of a long, jagged fluke is peeking out from beneath the clutter, his disbelieving eyes tracking the steady transition from a serpentine tail into the torso of a young boy. A young boy who is glaring at the mountain of a man with such an intense ferocity, he’s sure his children feel it all the way back in Edinburgh.

Regardless, the creature Gwayne is looking at certainly isn’t something as ordinary as a relatively harmless sea serpent. To be honest, he isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at; the opalescent mixture of gold stripes and royal blue scales, the gills and webbed fingers, the teal eyes with slit pupils spitting fire at him. The strange creature that lies before him, tangled up in a mess of netting and seaweed, in the middle of the West-Indies Sea after a harsh storm has ransacked their ship, is far from being a simple sailor’s flight of fancy, or grog induced hallucination.

As a man who spends most of his life out at sea, sailing towards the next big adventure, Gwayne has heard his fair share of seafaring superstitions and old fishwives tales all the way from the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru.  Any good sailor worth his salt knows them. Their name changes from port to port but the principle remains the same. Young men, old men, husbands, sons, scallywags and captains. None are safe from the fabled creatures of the sea that ensnare them with their haunting voices, dragging them fathoms below to their deaths. They are foul, savage creatures that look like angels but kiss like Old Nick himself. They are known to some as sirens, aycayía to the locals round these waters, and those that have lost loved ones, demons of the sea. To Gwayne and his countrymen, they are known as finfolk.

Keeping his movements slow and unassuming, Gwayne never takes his eyes off of the silent form wishing him death with every look as he turns his head to the side, calling out to the helm, “Cap’n, I think ye’ll be wanting tae see this...”

A charged hush falls over the circle of men, all of them turning to watch as their captain has Erd take charge of the helm, swaggering down the steps and across the main deck til he reaches the bow. The gaggle parts for Levi like the sea, stepping aside so he can reach Gwayne unimpeded. He stops just in front of their bear of a crew mate.

“Aye? And what’s so interesting that I just have ta see it myself?” the captain asks, quirking a thin brow underneath his head wrap.

Gwayne quickly glances away and shoots a meaningful look at the smaller man, tilting his head towards the barrels. “I think ye should take a look fer yerself, Cap’n,” he says. “We dinna want any o’ these scallywags getting the wrong ideas now.”

“Well, ye’ve certainly got my interest,” Levi says, moving forward until he stands in front of Gwayne. His view is blocked by a broad chest and he’s forced to look up into a bushy face. “I can’t very well see what ye want me to when yer blocking the way like that, ye great big bloody mountain.”

Lips twitching in amusement, Gwayne bobs his head in agreement but hesitates before stepping aside, gaze sliding over to the creature before meeting the captain’s once more.

“Just...prepare yerself, Cap’n. It’s a bit o’ a shock.”

Levi flaps a hand, rolling his eyes at Gwayne’s words. He’s already shoving past the boulder of a man when he responds, words dying on his tongue when he takes into account just what lies behind the cover of the barrels, “It can’t be that bad, Gwayne. We’re in the middle o’ the fucking ocean, it can’t be something I ain’t...seen…before…”

Frozen in place, all Levi can do is stare at the hateful creature pressing as far as it can into the corner. Glittering scales of the truest blue and deepest gold he’s ever seen along with miles of bronzed skin fill his vision. A line of sharp teeth are bared, and eyes the colour of the Caribbean Sea try to smite him where he stands. Thin arms are wrapped around a heaving chest, and its tail is lashing against the wood of the deck in agitation.

From behind him, Gwayne makes an unexpected noise of surprise, making him jump in his boots and whirl around with a sour glare.

Gwayne shoots the captain a placating look, hands rising in defense as he nods towards the feisty creature, saying, “I was just surprised is all, Cap’n. The laddie wasna that... active when I found ‘im.”

“Just shut yer gob, man,” Levi scowls, turning back to the mystery hiding on his ship. “Have ye tried ta speak ta it?”

“No, I called fer ye as soon as I found ‘im.”

Levi nods in approval before taking half a step forward.

“Careful, Cap’n!” Gwayne warns just as a webbed hand swipes out at Levi, nails looking like they can rend flesh from bone. Levi springs back from the attack, thanking his quick reflexes. If he hadn’t moved when he had, he imagines a fair chunk of his chest would be missing. “Are ye alright?”

“Aye, aye, I‘m fine. I’d reckon it can’t understand English.”

“Seems so, Cap’n.”

Gwayne and Levi watch as the creature follows their every movement like a hawk, eyes mistrustful. If they get too close one of those deadly looking claws swipes out and a warning hiss escapes its open maw. After toeing back and forth in a very strange game of cat and mouse, Levi has had enough.

“ALL RIGHT YE SCALLYWAGS, LISTEN UP!” he bellows, turning to look at the gathered crew. Hushed whispers die down as they curiously watch their captain, waiting with bated breath to hear what he has to say. “EVERYONE OF YE BUT GWAYNE AND ERD CLEAR DECK! WE’RE GOING TA DROP ANCHOR.”

“But what’s back there, Cap’n?”

“Is it a sea serpent, like the laddie said?”

“Why are we droppin’ anchor?”

Levi gives them all a stern glare, mouth an unamused line. Questions are being fired at him left and right, and when they show no signs of lessening, he yells, “NO QUESTIONS, LADS! YE’LL DO WHAT I SAY, AND YE’LL GO BELOW TIL I SAY OTHERWISE! YE KNOW WHAT’LL HAPPEN IF YE DON’T LISTEN TA ME. AYE?”

“AYE, AYE, CAP’N!” they crow in response, turning on their heels and heading down to their quarters.

Waiting until the last crew member disappears below, Levi turns to Erd who is making his way over towards them. He’s already dropped the anchor, the ship rocking back and forth in the gentle swells as the Caribbean sun begins to dip below the horizon. It’s not safe to remain in one spot for too long during the night. A lot of hunters and naval convoys roam these waters, the last thing they need is to start a fight when they don’t have the right amount of stocks and the ship is damaged from the storm. They might stand a chance if they run away with their tails between their legs, but Levi does have a reputation to maintain. He’d be the laughing stock among pirate circles for months.

No pirate, especially a captain, worth his weight in gold ever backs down from a fight. You either win or you die honorably in battle. There is no glory to be found in turning your back like a coward, even if it means you might live to see another day. Every man who claims the Jolly Roger as his crest accepts that any day can be his last, and if he doesn’t practice what he preaches, he’s scum in the eyes of pirates everywhere. He’s nothing but a common criminal pretending to be a true man of the sea, he might as well be a part of the Navy.

“Cap’n?” he asks, voice coloured with confusion. “Why are we droppin’ anchor, and why have ye sent the men away?”

“They can’t see this til I figure out what ta do with it,” Levi moves to the side, gesturing for Erd to step forward and take a look for himself. “There’d be mutiny and I‘m not about ta let that happen on my own fucking ship.”

Erd shifts into the spot Levi vacated, looking down at what has Gwayne and the captain in such a tizzy. His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open.

“Well, sink me!” Erd gasps, tripping over his own feet as he jumps backwards. “What in all the seven Hells is that?!”

“That,” Levi jerks his chin towards the cowering beast, “Is our new stowaway.”

* * *

Finding a spot in the captain’s quarters for the large copper tub is easy; however, filling said tub with salt water and then wrangling the sea creature into it is another matter entirely. It takes many trips and many buckets to fill the bath up enough that they don’t have to worry about the creature drying up on them before they can construct a better course of action. Gwayne and Erd fetch the water while Levi watches over their stowaway. He trusts his men with his life, it’s the creature he doesn’t trust. He would rather it go up against him instead of his men. He knows he can handle it no problem. Gwayne and Erd on the other hand…They don’t have the same type of viciousness Levi does. They’ll be gutted like fish, too worried about hurting it. Levi won’t pull his punches. He has no qualms about roughing up the spiteful being. As long as it’s still alive, it doesn’t matter if it’s got a few new bruises or some missing fingers and fins. And so, he’s on sentry duty, cataloging every twitch of that vibrant tail and every flex of those webbed fingers.

The biggest problem arises when Gwayne and Erd finally finish. They join Levi and for a moment, the trio stare down at their unexpected guest, internally debating the best way to move it to the cabin and into the tub.

“Gwayne, Erd, ye’ll take the tail,” Levi says, already stepping around the barrels, ignoring the fresh wave of hisses aimed at him. There’s not much damage its tail can do, it’s mouth and claws though...“I’ve got the head.”

“Are ye sure ye dinna want one o' us up there with ye?” Gwayne asks.

“Aye, ye’d only get in the way.”

Levi isn’t sure how it happens, but one moment he is reaching down to firmly grasp the hunched shoulders, and in the next he’s knocked to his arse with wrathful eyes and snapping jaws inches from his face. The creature undulates on his chest, tail one long powerful muscle as it crushes him under it’s body weight. He sees the glint of razor blade nails in his periphery and there’s just enough time to swing up a hand, clamping around a thin wrist before claws tear into his face.

“CAP’N!”  
  
“LEVI!”   

Grunting from the pressure on his chest, Levi glowers up at the creature that’s snarling at him. It hasn’t stopped wriggling but with its wrists shackled by his hands, it’s nothing more than a muzzled feral dog.

“I‘m fine,” Levi bites out, rage starting to pump through his veins. If it had been Gwayne or Erd...His grip tightens around the delicate bones, and a dark spark of triumph bursts in his chest when the creature winces, a low whine escaping its lips. “Get ready, both o’ ye.”

“Cap’n, ye shouldna hold him so tight…”

“I’ll do what I like, Gwayne. Now shut yer gob and get ready.”

“Ready for wha’, Cap’n?”

Levi doesn’t respond, instead he jerks the creature’s arms down until its hands are pressed to his chest, legs quickly wrapping around the thick, slippery tail. High pitched screeches sound right by his ear, deafening him. The tail between his thighs is thrashing about, and he’s beginning to lose his grip. Before the advantage is lost, Levi tenses all of his muscles and swiftly barrel rolls to the side, bringing the creature with him. It slams into the unforgiving deck with a hard smack, a pained whimper ripping from its throat. Levi ignores the protests coming from his crew, settling on top and peers down into the humanoid face.

Realizing the change in position, the sea beast begins to writhe, tail curving forward to slap at Levi’s back, torso twisting in the hopes of breaking his iron grip. Levi lets it, remaining firm as he patiently waits for it to tire itself out.

Minutes pass without a break in its struggling, impressing Levi slightly with how utterly determined it is before the fight in its eyes begins to fade away like an ember. Eventually it halts all movement, chest heaving as it pants for breath, eyes wide and glassy as they stare up at Levi’s face. Its tail lays flat and lifeless as the creature finally accepts its fate.

He’s not stupid enough to release the hold he has on its wrists, but he does slacken the previously bruising grip. He leans back so he is not directly in the creature’s face, allowing it a proper view of its surroundings. Levi hopes his show of good faith is appreciated.

Now they both know he is more than capable of subduing any further attacks, and he hopes there will be no more incidents.

“Ye done now?” Levi asks, not really expecting a response. The creature looks downright petrified. “Don’t be trying ta pull anymore dumb shit, aye? We’re just trying ta get ya off the deck and into the water.”

The creature blinks its wide eyes at him, fingers twitching in his grip.

“I’ll just take that as an aye. Gwayne, Erd.”

Immediately, the other men step forward, understanding his unspoken order. They reach down and gently scoop up the tail, being careful not to bend back any of the scales or fold the fins. The creature beneath Levi reinvigorates, vocalizing high pitched, panicked chirps. Its tail jerks in their hold, and it tries to tug its arms away from the captain.

“Hush now, laddie,” Gwayne grumbles, struggling to keep his grip on the wriggling appendage. “We’re no trying tae hurt ye. If ye keep doing that, I‘m gonna drop ye.”

It makes a noise that sounds awfully like a plea, rapidly blinking its terrified eyes up at Levi. Thinking quickly, Levi transfers both wrists to one hand, the other dropping to his belt. His fingers make quick work of the latch and then he’s tugging the leather free from the belt loops.

“Cap’n, what are ye…”

Dismissing the question, Levi twines the thick leather around its forearms, winding it up until it stops just below its hands, tugging tight to make sure the makeshift knot won’t come loose. It hisses in pain, testing the give by attempting to pull its arms apart. When all that brings about is another round of pained noises, it stops but the fear in its expression never washes away.

“There, that should hold til we get it ta the tub,” says the captain, pushing himself up from his straddling position. Without the use of its arms, all the creature can do is fitfully flop around on the deck. “Heave ho, lads.”

They take up their positions, Gwayne and Erd doing their best to hold up the slick, heavy tail as Levi wraps his arms around its chest. His face rests against the side of the creature’s head, and the thought that it can easily turn and sink its fangs into his cheek - and if it feels really vengeful, it can reach his jugular if it really works for it - crosses his mind, unbidden.

“Don’t ye dare fucking bite me, aye?” Levi doesn’t ask so much as he demands, cheek resting against the wet, tangled strands of its hair, the shells and stones scattered about the braids leaving indents on his skin. A pointed ear pokes out and the tip brushes his mouth with every forward step as the trio slowly work their way towards the cabin. “I’ll have ta beat the shit out o’ ye.”

It garbles out a puzzled noise, tension draining from its form as every second that its not tortured passes. It’s not a response Levi understands, or even much of one at all but he takes what he can get.

“Good beastie.”

* * *

 

Finally getting the creature to the temporary residence in Levi’s quarters is a blessing. The salt water seems to calm it, soothing whatever leftover hostility it holds towards them. Levi imagines it has such a positive effect because it’s familiar and reminds it of home.

He watches from his lounging position by the wall as it plays with the water, fingers drawing inconsequential designs on the surface, seeming quite content with its relocation. Unfortunately, it doesn’t completely fit in the tub - it’s Levi’s private bath, and the creature would be at least a good four heads taller if it had legs - its fluke hangs over the side, the jagged tips nearly brushing the floor. The gills on its neck flutter every so often but the creature doesn’t seem to mind that its not fully submerged so Levi doesn’t concern himself over such matters. As long as it can survive off of what they can offer, comfort is secondary.

“What are we going tae do with him?” Gwayne asks, watching the creature as well, expression strangely fond. “He canna stay cooped up in yer cabin forever, Cap’n. The lad’s probably got a family back wherever he came from.”

Levi’s gaze slides away from the strange creature and settles on his Master Gunner, and responds with, “I wasn’t planning on keeping it as a pet. This is just a temporary fix til I can figure out what ta do with it. I needed ta get it away and hidden before the rest o’ the crew saw it.”

“Ah, aye, that’s fer the best.”

He makes a curious sound in the back of his throat, scrutinizing Gwayne as he watches the creature splash about.

“Why do ye care so much?”

The mountain of a man grins sheepishly, cheeks ruddy under the thick thatch of his beard. “It’s nothing, Cap’n, to be sure,” he assures. “The laddie just reminds me o’ wee Willie is all, ye ken?”

Levi hums in understanding, dropping his inquiry and goes back to watching the creature entertain itself. From what he knows, Gwayne has four children back home, three daughters and one boy. The boy, Willie, is the youngest and Gwayne’s pride and joy. Willie is the last gift his wife gave him before she passed from black cholera shortly after his birth. His desire to be with his children often wars with his desire to provide them with a comfortable life. More often than not, Gwayne sacrifices getting to know his children when Levi comes calling, giving up the close bond he wants most so that they can have food in their bellies that don’t make them sick and a warm place to lay their heads. His motto is, “They dinnae have tae love me to live weel. I’d rather know they’re taken care of and want fer nothin’ than love me, but be cold and starving tae death.”

It’s sound, if a little twisted, logic.

“Cap’n?” Erd suddenly calls from by the door.

“Aye?” he replies lazily.

“The crew’ll be getting rowdy, and the longer we make ‘em wait, the curiouser they’ll be.”

Levi makes a noise of agreement, vacating his position by the bath and walking over to his desk. Stacks of nautical maps are strewn about the wood’s surface as well as a spyglass, compass, crystal ink wells, parchment and various baubles he’s collected over the years. He makes quick work of the brass buttons on his jacket, sliding the crimson material off his shoulders and setting it on the back of his chair, leaving him in a loose white cotton shirt and black breeches. Tossing the cravat down, Levi rolls his shoulders, fingers kneading at the stiff muscles. A soft groan works its way out of his throat and his eyes flutter in pleasure.

The clearing of a throat brings his attention back to Erd who is awaiting his response.

“Aye, I agree. The crew don’t know their arseholes from their elbows, and before long they’ll be shitting themselves if they don’t hear from one o’ us soon,” Levi says, uncorking a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a generous tumbler. “With circumstances being what they are, fer now ye’ll be taking over most of my duties, Erd. I’ll be working on figuring out what ta do with our... _guest_. Maybe see if I can communicate with it.”

“Is that wise, Cap’n?” Erd asks. “There’ll be talk among the crew.”

“Aye, tongues will surely wag. But I believe ye know what’s to be done about that. If anyone has something ta say, ye send ‘em ta me. We’ll see if they’ve got the balls ta say it ta my face.”

It wouldn’t be the first time that Levi has had to reassert his position as captain of the crew. Every so often there would be an upstart lad too cocky for his breeches, thinking Levi would be easy pickings for their promotion. They are thoroughly proved wrong when he plants his boot in their face and cuts out their tongue as punishment. There is no sympathy on this ship for prospective mutineers.

“I don’t think I need ta tell either of ye to keep yer gobs shut about this, but I’ll say it anyway: Keep yer fucking gobs shut, or so help me, ye’ll wish ye were dead,” Levi says sternly, gaze unflinchingly harsh. “As fer ye, Gwayne, continue yer duties as normal. I’ll call fer ye if I need ye. Any objections, lads?”

“None from me, Cap’n.”

“Erd?”

“If ye think it’s best.”

“I do.”

“Then no, I haven’t any either, Cap’n.”

“Good, now get out o’ my fucking sight.”

 


End file.
